


... the police call it arson

by timberwolfoz



Series: won't be long before I cave in [5]
Category: New Blood (TV)
Genre: "why does Arrash have a second bed? Are they going to list the second bedroom on AirB&B?", M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Series, Pre-Relationship, Stefan gets himself adopted into Rash's family, and not just because he helped Leila, basically the entire family think they're doing it, hopefully this is the last housefiring they'll need for a while, the adorable prats are back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timberwolfoz/pseuds/timberwolfoz
Summary: Rash and Stefan have a combination housefurnishing day and housefiring party, as Stefan's old flatmate Jan would put it.Thanks as always to mcicioni for introducing me to these two adorable prats and for the beta, to pantsaretherealheroes for listening to me blither all over Tumblr chat, and especially to Heliophile for the superb beta that helped me say what I meant to say, rather than what I typed.  *throws streamers*





	... the police call it arson

"We need to find the best supermarket around here, that one last night was _bad_ ," said Stefan.  "And a decent market.  Markets are cheaper if they're not too trendy."

"There's some down that way, isn't there?" asked Rash.  "Anyway, we're gonna have so much food when the family turn up this afternoon.  Even if they'll scoff a lot of it."

"Good thing we have a fridge to put it in now," said Stefan.  "I'm amazed at how much your family scrounged up."

"They do that when they all pull together," said Rash.  "Which they generally do when one of us needs something." He grinned.  "At least they never expected me to fix their parking tickets."

"Yeah, that'd be tricky," said Stefan.  He stretched contentedly. "We better not make a habit of it, but that was a seriously good breakfast."

"Yeah, soaked up the last of your mates' vodka," said Rash, stretching his arms above his head in turn.  "Come on, we'd better get on our bikes.  Literally.  We need to get some food in.  And coffee."

"Coffee," repeated Stefan, closing his eyes in bliss.  "That coffee in the little cups, like you did last night?"

"Oh yeah.  I grew up on it.  Police-station tea was a shock when I joined.  Not that I didn't gulp it down after a couple of night patrols," said Rash, smiling reminiscently.   _"Wet_ night patrols."

"Oh yeah, we drank anything with caffeine in at uni," agreed Stefan.  "Even ate a couple of spoonfuls of cheap and nasty instant when we got a little crazy around exam time.  Then after I left, there was a _lot_ of builders' tea."

"Yeah, I've tasted your tea, the NHS could use it as a heart-starter," said Rash, getting to his feet and kicking Stefan in the ankle.  "Come on you, on your bike.  They said noon on, but I wouldn't bet against a couple of the cousins showing up with the small stuff earlier."

"Right," said Stefan.  "Which way?"

"Ummm…" said Rash, checking his phone.  "That way."

"Better walk our bikes," said Stefan, as Rash trailed out the door, face in his phone.

He grinned as, halfway out, Rash said, loudly enough for the entire café to hear: "Hang on – you **_ATE_** that stuff?"

 

* * *

 

Rash's prediction was dead accurate.

As he and Stefan wheeled their bikes the last few houses back to their place, carrier bags dangling from their handlebars, they were hailed by a small dark-haired woman who bore a strong family resemblance to Rash's Aunt Darya and a tall blond man with a relaxed demeanour, who bore a striking resemblance to Paul Bettany.

"Well timed!" said Rash.  "Told you," he added quietly to Stefan.

"Ah, you know.  If we were too early we would have abandoned you to go find a coffee, come back later," the woman smiled.  "The parking's terrible!  Thanks for the heads-up, Rash."

"Yeah, thanks – really.  Stefan, this is my cousin Raha and her husband John.  Or Yahya, as the family insist on calling him half the time.  Raha, John – my housemate Stefan Kowolski.  Come on in, guys.  Morning," he said to a passing neighbour, who nodded in response as they walked to their car.

"You work together, Stefan?" asked Raha as Rash unlocked the door.

"No, but we keep finding ourselves in each other's investigations – our jobs keep throwing us together somehow," he explained, following Rash in with his bicycle.  "Make yourselves at home – not that there's much to make yourself at home with," he said with a rueful grin.  "We'll just get this stuff away.  And then you must let me make you a cup of tea at least?"

"Please.  Rash knows how we like it."

"Yeah," said Rash.  "Toilet's upstairs if you need it.  Um, you have to hold the button down until it's fully flushed or it doesn't all go down."

"Yeah," said Stefan with a grimace as the others chuckled sympathetically.

When they came back, mugs of tea in hand, they found Raha standing in the middle of the front room, a pile of material beside her, and her partner nowhere to be seen.  "John out at the car?" asked Rash.

"Getting the rugs," she explained, taking the mug with one hand and gesturing to the décor with the other.  "Wow."

"Yeah," said Rash.

"The fifties called, they want their room back," said John, entering the room and dumping two huge rolled up rugs on the floor. 

Rash grinned and flipped him off. 

"Hey, some people go wild for that sort of thing," said Stefan.  "As my builder mates could tell you."

"Especially if it's original," put in John.

"I think this is," said Stefan.

"Yeah, and that bit of wallpaper looks like it'll go soon," said Raha, eyeing it critically.  "We'll tack up the hangings; hide the cracks and the paper all in one.  Tacks OK, Rash?"

"Should be fine, as long as we don't leave gaping holes in the walls," said Rash.

"You're lucky," said John.  "Is this really how the place came?  No internet? No phone?" 

"Hey, we didn't even have a fridge, and definitely not a microwave," said Rash.  "Agent said the last tenants cleaned them out and did a midnight flit."

"It's part of the reason we got the place so quickly," put in Stefan. "Well, that plus my boss knows the owner."

"Lucky for all of you," said Raha, drawing a deep breath.  "Right, let's get down to it.  Where do you want this rug, Rash?"

"How big's the couch aunt Minoo's bringing?"

Raha eyed the dimensions of the room critically, then indicated a space a distance out from the window with her hands.  "Rug there, then?"

"Yep," said Rash, holding up one finger and pulling out his phone as it rang.  "Arrash… hi, Mum… no, that's fine!  No, I understand.  Really.  No, that's more important.  Yeah, mum, that'll be great.  I'll see you... whenever I see you.  OK, bye."

"Aunt Nasreen get called in to work again?" asked Raha.

"Yep," said Rash, putting his phone away and taking one end of the rug.  "You know what it's like."

"Leila not coming then?" asked Stefan.

 _"Yes,_ she's coming," said Rash, rolling his eyes.  "Old friend of hers is moving overseas so they're having a last catch-up, then she'll be along.  Come on, you… give us a hand with this."

"Nice rug," was all Stefan said as he took the other end and started moving it around in response to Raha's hand signals.

 

* * *

 

 The rest of the morning was devoted to hanging brightly coloured or sheer embroidered material at the windows, tacking up wall hangings and laying down rugs of varying sizes on every bit of carpet they could, and then, as more family members arrived with a seemly endless supply of soft furnishings, flatware and cooking pots, finding spaces for said items in between making coffee, toasting flatbread under the grill and chopping up vegetables, cheese and herbs for snacks to keep everyone going.

But wasn't until about one when the bulk of the people arrived that things started getting _really_ busy.

Rash's mother, aunts and other female relatives and their friends arrived with pre-cooked dishes in slow cookers, and heavy pots that they put on portable hotplates, while others arrived with their own cooking pots and ingredients and shooed Rash and Stefan out of the kitchen so they could get to work.  Meanwhile the younger crowd were arriving with plastic tubs of crushed ice, a wide variety of alcoholic beverages, and smaller items of furniture that could be fitted into cars and 4WDs.  Stefan's old housemates turned up with several bottles of vodka and the heavy items of furniture, which they manoeuvred up the stairs and in and out of rooms which much merriment. 

By 7 that evening, a couch was in place, piled high with cushions, more cushions were piled on the floor, and six slightly rickety chairs were in the kitchen around a table with a bright tablecloth spread over it and the cover of an ancient _London A-Z_ folded up and shoved under one of the legs to steady it, with Stefan and Rash's old and new crockery piled high on it along with the food.  A double and a large single bed had been manoeuvred up the stairs and installed in their respective rooms, along with a couple of ancient wardrobes that looked like they'd been rescued from Oxfam, the beds were made up with fresh linen and the more electronically inclined members of the family had settled down to the serious business of tinkering with the ancient stereo to a) make it work and b) jury-rig it so they could hook their iPods into it.  ("Sorry, we couldn't find you a TV that worked, we'll keep looking." "Ah, we'll survive.  The licence fee's paid, anyway.")  The slightly bemused neighbours who had been greeted by Rash and Stefan as they went in and out helping with the heavy items from the vans had been buttonholed by Rash's aunts and were drifting in, looking bewildered as they were plied with food and drink in strongly-accented English, the aunts extracting a lot more information from them about their life and background than they realised. ("We should bring your aunts along the next time we need to interrogate someone, Rash. They're damned good at it." "Well they _did_ all train as lawyers.")

By nine that evening the stereo was playing loudly, the children – both Rash's relatives and friends-of-relatives and the neighbours' children – were tearing around, hyped up on excitement and Iranian sweets, and groups of adults were gathered in every corner chatting animatedly while Rash's aunts were attempting to initiate Stefan's old housemates into the mysteries of the Dabke.

"And the crazy thing is, it isn't even our dance," Rash yelled into Stefan's ear.  "Mum and Leila learnt it when they first came over here from the other refugees.  Goes down a treat if we get invited to weddings."

"I'm surprised you didn't have more trouble," said Stefan.

"It might have been worse if Mum didn't have Leila barely walking and me …" He made a gesture over his stomach indicating pregnancy. 

"Yeah, that'd do it," said Stefan.  He looked over at the dancing, a hopeful look on his face. "That does look like fun…"

Rash grinned at him, clinked his beer bottle with Stefan's and drained it, waiting for Stefan to do likewise before putting them down and dragging Stefan into the line, to the cheers and whistles of his relatives.

 

* * *

 

 Somewhat later, Stefan had gone to splash water on his face at the kitchen sink to recover when he spotted a lone figure in the back garden.  Was that…?

He eased the door open and walked out, shutting it gently behind him.  "Leila?  You OK?"

She half turned towards him, the light from the kitchen glinting on her face.  "Yeah.  Just needed some air," she said, her voice strained.

Stefan walked slowly down the garden.  "Feel free to tell me to sod off, but… can I help?"

Leila hurriedly swiped over her face.  "Not unless you can turn back time so I can tell that backstabbing bastard, 'Maybe, but can you supervise me with the medications?'" she replied bitterly.

Stefan grimaced in sympathy. "Trying to dump it on you, are they?"

"Yeah.  You know what it's like… lowest one gets the blame.  That or the newest.  And mud sticks."

"Yeah," agreed Stefan.  "Um… would a hug help any?"

Leila shook her head.  "No, but thanks for the offer.  We're not a hug-type family so it'd just feel weird.  At least Mum, Rash and I aren't… my aunts and uncles and cousins are, a bit."

"Oh," said Stefan, thinking back to the time in their Stratford flat where he and Rash had fallen asleep on the couch and he'd woken up with Rash snuggled into his shoulder.  Though come to think of it Rash had been skittish for the rest of the week…

"What's really frustrating is I don't know what to do," said Leila tiredly.  "It's like my life's on hold.  I mean I could resign, I was going to before, but …"

"It'd be different, yeah," said Stefan, looking over his shoulder as the back door opened and a figure stepped outside…

Rash, who was now standing there with his hands on his hips and a 'really'? look on his whole body.

Stefan narrowed his eyes at Rash – not that that could be seen in the dim light – and jerked his head, clearly indicating _Get the fuck over here and help your sister._

Rash's eyes widened in understanding and he closed the door and walked towards them through the long grass as Stefan said softly, "It's Rash."

"OK," she said quietly as Rash joined them.

"Hey," he said gently.

"I'll… just leave you to it?" said Stefan as Rash took his sister by the elbow and led her further down the garden, closer to the back fence, where they could only be seen as dark shadows.  "Okay," he said to himself, turning and making his way back inside, where Jaleh, one of Rash's cousins, was making coffee.

"Leila not taking it too well?" she asked with a nod of her head towards the back yard.

"You know about that?" he asked.

"Stefan, you'll find out that everyone in this family knows everything unless you take bloody good care to keep it private," she said.  "And sometimes even then."

"I'll… consider myself warned," said Stefan.  "Will… she be all right?"

"Who knows?" she said resignedly.  In answer to Stefan's enquiring look, she explained, "Aunt Nasreen, Leila and Rash have always kept a lid on their emotions more than the rest of the family.   Understandable, with what happened, but it drives you mad when you see them going through something and you can't help because they won't let you."

"I know," said Stefan, with a frustrated sigh.

"Plus when they blow up they _really_ blow up," said Jaleh.

"Yeah," said Stefan with feeling, remembering a fist to the face and Rash telling him to get out of his life.

"The funny thing is," she said, "you know they trust you if they start yelling around you.  Otherwise they only yell if their back's to the metaphorical wall."

"Yeah, had my share of that. From Rash," he clarified.

"Well, says it all," said Jaleh.  "Whoops, here they come," she said, looking up at Rash and Leila making their way up the garden, Rash holding his sister's arm.  "Someone should have brought a mower."

"I think you need a weed-whacker," Stefan replied.

"We'll have to see if we can find one, save you having to hire it," she said as the two siblings walked in.  "You look cold, Leila.  Coffee?"

"Please," said Leila, fervently, as Rash crossed over to him, gave him a light punch on the arm and, with a hand to the back of his neck, drew him back to the rest of the party where an impromptu Iranian dance lesson (with a mix of _all_ the styles) was apparently taking place.

 

* * *

 

 "What was that all about before?" asked Stefan, his voice slurred with tiredness and not a little drink as they cleaned up the remains of the party.

"What was all what about before?" asked Rash.  "The cheek pinching?"

"Oh, God yeah, and don't think I didn't see you laughing," retorted Stefan.  "No, Leila.  Or shouldn't I ask?"

"You shouldn't ask, but it was nothing you haven't heard before," said Rash with a sigh.  "It's just… frustrating at the moment.  For her.  All of us, but especially her.  So tread carefully, all right?"

"Right.  I'll... bear that in mind," said Stefan, scraping the remains of the food into what had been designated the compost bucket and starting to fill up the sink.  As he squeezed washing-up liquid into the water and started piling in the plates, he asked, "Any idea what might happen?  With all that we turned up, I mean.  Will it help any?"

Rash shrugged, opening the back door and throwing out the dregs of the drinks into the wilderness of the back garden before he stacked the cups and glasses on Stefan's left and took up a dishtowel, beginning to dry.  "Don't know," he said.  "She's right about mud sticking.  _And_ I hate to say it, but being born in Iran does not help.  Even if she was _one_ when she came here."

"Yeah," said Stefan grimly.

"I _hope_ she can find a way around it," said Rash.  "Her union's onto it and Mum's found a good lawyer, but…." He sighed.  "I don't know."

"Yeah."

Rash poked him in the shoulder with a wet soapy hand.  "Seriously.  _Don't_ you go hassling her, she's got enough on her mind as it is."

"I wouldn't make a move on your sister now!" protested Stefan indignantly.  "What kind of bastard do you think I am?"

 _"Keep your voice down, it's 2a.m.!"_  hissed Rash.  He sighed, rubbing his wet hand over his face.  "And you're right.  I'm sorry."

"Eh," said Stefan.  "Anyway.  You know I like your sister – "

"Mate, all of greater London knows you like my sister."

 _"But,"_ Stefan continued, holding up a finger, "that ship sailed a long time ago.  If it was ever in port." He shook his head, grinning ruefully at Rash, who was fighting to hide a smile.  "And I'll stop with the ship metaphors now."

"Good idea," said Rash, opening the kitchen cupboards.  "Bloody hell, they've shifted everything around, it'll take half an hour to figure out where everything goes…"

"Hey Rash?"

"Yeah?"

"You're her younger brother, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then how come you act like her older brother?"

Rash shrugged.  "Partly because our father's dead.  Partly because I'm only about 15 months younger than her, so we were more like twins than big sister and little brother.  Partly because as the 'man'" here he made quotation marks with his fingers before he resumed washing up, "there was this expectation that I should look after her and Mum.  Even when I was little."

"Yeah," said Stef.

"You know," said Rash, letting out the water, refilling the sink with fresh, and starting on the glassware, "It might be good that I've moved out.  For them as well as me.  You know?"

"Kinda," said Stefan.  "I know large families, but not living with brothers and sisters."

"It's different," said Rash.

"Yeah."

They finished the rest of the dishes in contemplative silence, then Stefan nudged Rash.  "Hey.  I know it's so late it's early, but I don't feel like ending the night right now.  Fancy another?"

"Yeah, why not," agreed Rash.  "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Rash got them two beers from the full fridge ("At least we don't have to worry about breakfast. Or lunch.  Or probably dinner.") opened them, handed Stefan one, and by mutual accord they went through to the front room, kicking off their shoes and stretching out on the couch, their socked feet up on the coffee table.

"This is nice," said Stefan after a few contemplative sips.

"Yeah.  I'm glad we had the party, the place is well and truly fired, but I'm… enjoying just enjoying it."

"Yeah," agreed Stefan.  He bumped shoulders with Rash.  "Hey.  We finally made it, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Rash, clinking bottles with Stefan.  "Cheers."

"Cheers."

**Author's Note:**

> _notes oh god so many notes_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  Stefan and Rash's new place is based on a real place, though it doesn't have original 50's décor. (The details you can find on the real estate sites!) I won't reveal the exact address but it's a nice little place in Haggerston, near the Duke of Wellington.
> 
> For the purposes of this story it's owned by a nice elderly widowed gentleman (possibly childless? Since the second bedroom is so small) who could no longer live independently after his wife died and was persuaded to 'rent your lovely place out, the London property market is very good right now'. Unfortunately his last tenants loaded everything they could in a Ford Transit van or two and scarpered without paying the rent which is why he appealed to his friends and relatives to 'find me some decent tenants because I can't deal with the stress of selling it right now'. Fortunately one those people was Eleanor.
> 
> Stefan's old housemates didn't bring any more rekty spirit because they still had most of the bottle from the first housefiring. :D
> 
> The Dabke is a combination line and circle dance performed through the Levant (eastern) part of the Middle East. Those of you on Tumblr might have seen the video going around a few months back of [the flash mob at Beiruit airport](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEp29GS1VXI) I also found another example [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGN2uWS2iKs) It doesn't seem to be danced in Iran but I suspect the Sayyads picked it up in the UK, either when they first came over as refugees or later in the community.  
>   
> There are a _lot_ of Persian forms of dance: Rash's family would have been Baba Karam. Here's [a stage version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oz7eSj7Z9H4), and here's [a version at a wedding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KN9LyvFKmk)
> 
> The Sayyads (Nasreen Leila and Rash) coming over from Iran after Rash's father, a police officer, was killed is canon per the show's website. Rash would have come over in utero since he says to DS Sands "I was born here." Given that a) Leila looks older b) Leila would have had to be older, a twin or have a different father – and since she says to her mother in case 3 'maybe YOU should get married again' that's unlikely – I've elected to make her Rash's elder sister by a fairly short interval, like less than two years. 
> 
> Again per the show's website and character bios, Stefan dropped out of his uni course when his parents went back to Poland and he couldn't afford to continue. He also talks about it and his background in an amazing scene in one of the deleted scenes in the DVDs – it's worth buying the DVD for that scene alone. Unfortunately they haven't been uploaded to YT!
> 
> The cheek pinching (and the accompanying endearment of "Moosh bokhoradet!" (sense: you're so cute literal: a mouse should eat you) is apparently something that Iranian children get a lot, which is why Rash was just about wetting himself laughing (as well as Leila and the cousins). Guess what: Stefan's been adopted by the aunts, Rash and Leila's mother Nasreen and the entire Sayyad clan, he just hasn't twigged to it. Half if not all the family think he and Rash are partners anyway – there was some muttering in Farsi (out of Rash's hearing) about why the second bed? Especially if that room's so small? *g*


End file.
